Temptation
by ArgentNoelle
Summary: When Alois Trancy has Ciel alone in a spare bedroom under the pretense of cleaning his jacket, he realizes what a golden opportunity he has in his hands... and takes it. [Alternate Scene for 2x05 Beacon Butler]


In all honesty, Ciel wasn't thinking when he followed the maid out of the party. He might have blamed it on the disorientation he had been feeling, queasily, ever since he had stepped into this odd house, with its chandeliered front room that swayed and swirled, an overlaid feeling of déjà vu stronger than anything he'd ever experienced in his life. He might have blamed it on a momentary lapse; he'd only just seen his own servants' disastrous attempts to "help" and it had lowered his guard, made him feel kindly toward the girl who had bumped into him so clumsily. He might have blamed it on all of that, but it was only when she looked up and he saw her eyes—large and blue and breathtaking, framed by her ice-blonde hair, that he lost his senses. She lead him into a spare bedroom, because of course, that was a convenient, out of the way place to clean a dirty jacket, and he took it off, watching her take hold of it confidently, carry it over to the chair in the corner, and sat himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed. The room was almost dark, and for a few minutes he merely sat, and waited, and started to wonder why he had followed a girl he didn't know into a spare bedroom in the house of someone he suspected of murder, just because she had asked him. He wondered, but it was an abstract wonder. In the corner, in the rocking chair, the girl in purple sat and worked, humming a little in a whimsical fashion, and Ciel couldn't be bothered to be missing the loud and raucous party. He'd never been one for sustained sociability and crowds. It was quiet here, nice almost; and of course, after she had seemed so regretful, and going to all the trouble of offering to clean his jacket, he couldn't change his mind and leave.

Eventually, the girl got up, jacket in hand. "All finished," she said, proudly, walking over to him.

Ciel frowned, looking at the large and obvious stain, which had been not cleaned so much as spread around.

"Finished?" he said, harshly. The girl had to be joking.

Before he could even begin to think what she was on about, she had her fingers twined in his hair, cradling the back of his head; her fingers brushed across his cheek. It was distracting enough that even her odd words didn't ring the alarm it should have as she murmured about rings and souls and blue. Then she leaned forward, and licked his ear.

Ciel gave a shuddering, confused breath. He was disturbed—not as disturbed as he ought to be. The girl hesitated for a moment. She brought her face back slightly and looked at him searchingly, and then smiled—something sly and secretive and triumphant, something surprised and delighted and glad.

"You liked that."

"No, I…" Ciel stammered.

"You liked that, Ciel Phantomhive. Do you like _me_?"

Ciel blushed. The girl's hands were still cupped around his face, and he knew he ought to be pushing her away—he knew he ought to be feeling discomited by her closeness, by the way she was touching him without asking, and yet he didn't mind, not at all the way he knew he should.

"You have to," the girl continued, in her soft, musical voice. "You followed me into a bedroom and let me close the door, didn't you?" She giggled.

"No!" Ciel said. "You said you were cleaning my jacket—I didn't—I meant—"

"Don't worry," the girl whispered, leaning close to his ear again, close enough that he could feel the warm wetness of her breath. She poked out her tongue and licked his ear again, more slowly this time, and Ciel shivered, leaning into her despite himself.

I shouldn't, he thought. This isn't wise. But then, he had known that the moment he followed her here, and yet he'd done it anyway.

"... _I like you too_."

Her hair tickled the edge of his face, and he could see the curve of her neck close enough to touch. Without really realizing what he was doing, or why, he had brought his lips close to it, opened his mouth, touched the very tip of his own tongue to her skin, and shuddered at the taste of another body, the salt of it; he wanted more. The girl stepped backward, keeping him in her grasp, and he stumbled toward the bed, leaning down to keep his arms around her as she sat on the edge of the bed, the edges of her wide skirts still trailing off the side. They bunched up as she lay down, so he had to crawl sideways to keep contact with her skin; there was too much on her—heavy dress with its white apron, folds of petticoats underneath, getting between them, layers and layers of lace. He reached for the skin of her shoulders, pressed his fingers against the warmth, against her neckline, trying to pull it lower, but she caught his hands in a strong grip.

"Naughty, naughty," she said teasingly, and Ciel blushed again—he stopped, almost made to move away, but the girl reached out to him and held on to his own shoulders, the warmth of her hands through the pleated fabric. "I have to wear this uniform, I can't have you mussing it," she whispered. Even as she spoke, she had her hands at his own shirt, until she could press her lips to his breastbone, breathing close to him. "But we can still play a game, if you like. You be the pirate, and I'll be the damsel… you'll have to ravish me."

"How?" Ciel stammered, immediately blushing even more. He felt so wrong-footed around this girl; she made him do the stupidest things, say the stupidest things.

"Well," the girl said coyly, looking at him from her blue, blue eyes, with their fine dark lashes; she looked less innocent than she seemed; she looked dangerous, and it made something hot and impatient flare up within him. And… well…

We couldn't do _that_ , Ciel thought. It would certainly muss up her dress. And it's not like I've ever… well, done anything of the sort before. Even if certain parts of his body was eager to try.

"A kiss would do, for a start," the girl finished.

Ciel leaned down, his lips hovering over her own; then he leaned forward more and there was no space between them at all, only the soft brush of lips on lips. Then the girl had opened her mouth, poked her tongue out, forcing it into his own, and he exhaled into her.

How odd, he thought. This feeling. How odd, and yet good… she was exploring the insides of his mouth, his teeth, his cheeks, his own tongue that met hers, first curious at the intrusion and then insistent. He was losing his breath; it was all being sucked away into her core, as if she were trying to devour him. For the first time, the words he had been too shaken to understand floated into his consciousness, the strange things she had said to him as she'd stepped close, before…

" _Does your soul turn this color when you die? That same blue. The same lovely color as your ring. I wonder Lord Phantomhive, if we were one, if we were… could I have that same elusive blue for my soul?"_

What is this? He thought. Who is she? She can't know… she couldn't.

One of her hands was resting on his face, her thumb on the fabric of his eyepatch, swirling circles upon it.

She can't know. But…

"I knew you couldn't resist me," the girl said, half-laughing as they broke for air, as she brought her arms around him, petted the back of his head; and his arms trembled with the effort of holding himself above her without collapsing. "You're mine, Ciel Phantomhive… all mine. Forever."

She kissed him again, sweetly, softly; and licked his lips as though they were made of candy. Then she rolled out from under him, leaving him panting, confused, on top of the rumpled bedclothes. She slid off the bed, stood up and brushed her hands down her outfit.

"Oh, shit," she said. "It seems my clothes have been mussed after all. I'll have to change them. But you should rejoin the party," she said, and winked. "See you there."

"...What?" Ciel said.

She opened the door and skipped out of the room. The light from the hall was blazing.

Ciel didn't know how he managed to pull his jacket back on—still with its stain of wine—and he felt like he stumbled back into the party in a daze. There were so many people, so many lights and all of this music all about, but no glimpse of a lavender dress and a girl with clear blue eyes.

"Ciel! Where have you been?" Elizabeth said.

Ciel stared at her, trying to remember how to talk, trying to remember why he was here, and why she was, and why he oughtn't to have been going off with pretty maids into empty bedrooms in the middle of a costume party.

"I… Around," Ciel said.

He looked about the room again, frowning, feeling off balance, angry with himself, and still, wishing…

Those eyes. Those eyes that could belong to no other. He saw them across the room, saw them framed by icy blonde hair.

"What are you looking at?" Elizabeth asked, looking that way with a confused frown.

The boy that was coming toward them, smiling a familiar smile.

"Hello there," he said, in a lower, harsher voice than he'd had before, still confident, still coy. "I'm Alois, Earl Trancy. I don't believe we've been introduced."

"No," Ciel said, mechanically. Numb. "We haven't."

"You must be Ciel Phantomhive. I know all about you," Alois said. "And this is?"

Ciel looked at Elizabeth standing beside him. Oh. Yes. "Elizabeth Midford…"

"Ciel's fiancée," Elizabeth said proudly.

"Is that right?" Alois said, still smiling. He took her hand, and kissed it, just a polite brush of his lips a space above her skin, nothing more. "You must consider yourself very lucky, to have a fiancé like Ciel."

"Oh, I do," Elizabeth said, blushing a little at the praise, and twining an arm around Ciel, and Alois glanced at him, meeting his eyes; those perfectly cold, perfect blue eyes.

Alois, Earl Trancy, the boy that had, he suspected, murdered his parents all those years ago, the boy he had come here to fight, dressed in deep purple, bat-winged and horned, the devil. "...Very lucky indeed."

.

.

.


End file.
